My car, certainly, will never be the same.

This Saturday, I woke up at 7am to pick up my sister and drive her to therapy. 7am is never a great time to wake up as far as I’m concerned, especially on the weekend, so the day was off to an inauspicious start.

Noontime was my OWN therapy appointment, always a joy, and when i got out I called Katsumi to see if he was done at the Apple store. He had my car.

So Katsu told me he was just now getting started at the Apple store, and maybe I could just walk to Super 88 since you know, it’s like 90 degrees outside.

After sweating my way through the 20 minute walk into Allston, I arrived at Super 88 only to find it in the process of switching over to Hong Kong Mart. Seriously, the whole store was in boxes on the floor. They had almost none of the ingredients I needed for Pad Thai, including the ever-elusive tamarind paste, so I stood outside and waited in the sun for my ride.

I dropped Katsu off at home, chugged a seltzer, and set off for Reliable Mart in Somerville. They, also, had no tamarind paste. I bought tofu and rice noodles.

Whole Foods it was, then, the nearest one being on route 16, and guess what, THEY don’t have tamarind paste either.

On the way home, I opened up my Kombucha. It was a little treat I was giving myself, since it’d been a fairly shitty day thus far. And when I opened it a Kombucha volcano erupted from the bottle, frothing its way onto my face, up my nose, down my arm and ALL THE WAY DOWN my front. I’m talking ALL the way down. You know.

I think it’s a credit to my upped dose of medication that I was able to continue on without crying, actually, because there is almost nothing more uncomfortable and nasty than sitting in half a bottle of fresh Kombucha while you’re driving your merry way home from Somerville – down the southeast expressway and all the way through the tunnel.

FYI: I might NOT be the person you want to ask for a ride. Anywhere. Ever again. The Focus smells like fermented mold and eggshells.